Day One. EJ Nicolis sat zombified in a ratty tan Barcalounger. The planned destruction and death of one person gave him focus and kept him sane. It didn’t matter how fine her ass was in the red tartan mini. Or how her thighs peeked all milk creamy between the slats of the skirt. Or how freaking sexy her candy apple red patent leather knee-high Doc Marten’s gleamed in competition with pouty red lips and her amethyst eyes. As soon as he freed himself from his forced servitude—Ridley Cross was a dead woman.

Hope you enjoyed it. Be sure to check out the first 3 novels in the Descendants of Ra series available on AMAZON